Copper
by swiftwings13
Summary: Recently returned from a year in Samarkand, Reaver latches onto the Hero of Bowerstone knowing that adventure is never to far behind. FemSparrowxReaver. Post Fable 2 with a few tweaks.
1. Chapter 1

This was a little fic I wrote years ago and just rediscovered while switching computers. We all know that the ingame Reaver would never be caught dead falling in love with anyone but himself. A few things from the game (ie Reaver, side quests, and ages) have been tweaked for my own liking. Enjoy an drop me a review if you're feeling generous. Feel free to point out any grammar, spelling, missed details etc as I'm working as my own beta right now. The title sucks I know XD

Disclaimer: No, I do not own Reaver or the rights to Fable. If I did leveling up strength in the second game wouldn't have made female characters look like she-men. Yes, I am a shameless college student who spends her freetime writing silly fan fictions about non-LI characters.

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><p>Her hair hung just past her shoulders in a loose braid. As Reaver watched her braid bounce against her back he found his eyes drifting from the copper braid to the knee length trench coat, then to the thigh high boots (her attempt at increased modesty which had had the opposite effect so far). He was so distracted by his appraisal that when she stopped he ran right into her.<p>

"How long do you plan on following me for?"

"Sparrow, there's only one way to Bowerstone from Bloodstone. I would have gone by boat but _someone_ had to involve me in her scheme for revenge." Reaver replied coolly taking a step away from the angry adventurer.

Sparrow growled, her emerald eyes flashing hotly, and swallowed her irritation. All of Albion and she had to be followed by the one Hero who she could outright murder. Her right hand traced the outline of the knife hidden in the top of her left boot. She had hoped that the pants, boots, and trench coat would keep the worst of his leering at bay but she had felt his eyes on her all day. He hadn't said anything though and that was the strange part. The Reaver she had knew would have spewed proposition after proposition at her; however, today Reaver had apparently been content to just watch and keep his big, stupid mouth shut. Sparrow could only take consolation the fact that the boots had been a good purchase with plenty of uses ranging from hiding knives to merely keeping her legs warm in the chill costal air.

_Shadows, she's even prettier angry._ Reaver had long since ceased trying to ignoring these thoughts. Sparrow had whipped him up into her mess with Lucien, and as she had shaped the world into the weapon she needed, she had changed some integral part of him. He had sought to put things back to normal by leaving for Samarkand. Running away had always worked in the past when a man or woman had captured too much of his attention. None of his old tricks had worked this time though and so now he was back at the source.

"Anyway, I think Poorman's point is just past this hill. Not that I'm an expert on this region, I don't walk much." Reaver grinned as Sparrow let loose one of her famous groans of frustration and whirled around walking even faster up the steep hill.

_I can't wait till we reach Bowerstone and I can slam the door of my house shut on that plague ridden, selfish, pox midden, dung ball of a pirate._ Sparrow thought furiously as she stomped over the muddy trail. It was two nights ago that she had been dropped off at the Bloodstone harbor by the captain of the Sharlot Marie (the captain was terrible at spelling) when she had run into Reaver.

"Quite lucky I found you on the road. I always like debts paid up front." Reaver was saying, not even trying to hide his amusement. She could hear the laughter in his voice like chimes in the wind and like those dinky garden decorations, Sparrow found it annoying.

"Found me?" Sparrow turned to glare at the pirate ready to unleash a stream of curses while walking backwards. Her copper braid was thrown over her shoulder with the force of her turn. "I found you! I found you standing like an oaf in front of a Demon Door of all things in the middle of a cemetery!"

Reaver barely suppressed a sigh, if she was going to yell at him so much he would have stayed with Garth in Samarkand, miserable and bored. _Well if she's screaming it means she feels something at least._ He thought ironically.

"You great bastard child of a screaming spider-pleasing marsupial!"

"You come up with that one yourself?" Reaver laughed, he jogged forward a few steps to catch up with Sparrow. She was fast, even walking backwards. "If it's so sodding troublesome to travel with me; how come _you_ dragged me out of that cemetery?"

Sparrow halted her right foot held comically in the air, _why had I pulled him away from there?_ It had never occurred to her to not pull him away from the possessed door. She could have left him to be sucked into the door's riddles just like any other unfortunate soul, but instead she had saved him. She lowered her foot, moving back one step.

"I-"Sparrow stuttered, surprise clearly written over her suntanned face.

Reaver waited, staring. The sun was setting behind Sparrow, offsetting her copper hair, making her glow like a goddess. He felt the grin on his face fade; the sun was setting behind her? Reaver's dark grey eyes shot to the ground, they were situated only about three feet from the edge of a cliff.

"Sparrow-"

"I-I'm a hero! I save people!" Sparrow said indignantly, her face flushing red. She took a step backward. "Don't go thinking you're special just because-! " Sparrow's explanation ended in a short yelp as the ground gave way and Sparrow found herself tipping backwards. She reached out her gloved hands her eyes locked with Reaver's dark grey irises.

Reaver lunged, his hand reaching hers just in time. The pirate pulled the hero back to solid ground, stumbling back several feet from the edge of the cliff. Reaver had pulled her to his chest and she stayed there, her wide eyes hidden from his view. Then he felt her hand drop to his side and before he understood that she was going for his gun and not something else, she had fired three shots without so much as a peek over his shoulders at her targets.

Reaver let out a sigh of relief. "No more scolding. I don't think I can take it."

"Tell that to the bandits you let sneak up on us." Sparrow said with a little laugh, she slipped the pistol back into its holster and pushed away from his chest, her arms shaking.

He looked at her waiting.

"Heights, I, um, I'm not good with heights." She whispered and stared intently at the slain bandits. _I will not let him laugh at me. It's a valid fear!_ Sparrow thought stubbornly.

Reaver shrugged nonchalantly, "Shall we?" Oh how good it had felt when she had clung to him. What else could have happened if those damned bandits hadn't interrupted? Reaver pushed the barrage of fantasies away but making a mental note to revisit them later. He was surprised to hear that she was scared of heights as most of Theresa's inane quests had involved spires or mountains or overly large hills.

Sparrow frowned; this was not the reaction she had been expecting. "No comment? No sarcastic rebuke?" She smoothed her braid with one gloved hand and tossed it back over her shoulder. This was not the Reaver she had come to know during that year fighting against Lucien. He was almost being nice.

Reaver arched an eyebrow, "You really are masochistic." He sounded almost annoyed.

"Are you feeling okay? You haven't been acting very…Reaver-like since you returned from Samarkand." Sparrow watched his face close and that familiar smug and put upon expression descend. She could barely stop herself from jumping in delight. At last, the Reaver she knew and hated was back. The Reaver that she had spent a year fighting Lucien with before he had betrayed her. Yes she knew how to deal with this Reaver.

"Don't you have a vicious ghost to exorcise, _Hero_?" the title came out as a sneer reminding Sparrow just how much Reaver thought of it. "Or are you planning on waiting for the bandits to come looking for their man in black? I do hope they bring more men this time." Reaver turned away from Sparrow and picked his way back to the road. He didn't wait for the hero to follow.

Sparrow snorted in dismissal, "They never came for him."

"What?" Reaver asked, halting in mid step, half turning back to look at Sparrow curiously.

"What?" she deadpanned, and then, after glancing at the bandit she had just off'd, blushed. "Oh, you meant him. Is that the haunted cliff over there? Will wonders never cease!" she hurried past a dumbfounded Reaver with one gloved hand blocking her red face from view.

Reaver felt an urge to chuckle at little Sparrow's antics but suppressed it in favor of catching up with the Hero. He wanted to know who her man in black was, and if he should be expecting competition.


	2. Chapter 2

So I realized that in Fable 2 Reaver has blue eyes and in Fable 3 he has brown eyes. In this I've given him gray because I couldn't figure out his eye color at first and it seemed to match his alignment the best. If anyone makes a big stink about it I'll change it but if not I'll continue with gray. This chapter took me a little longer than I thought it would simply because of New Years. So HAPPY NEW YEAR! And enjoy chapter 2 and drop a review if you feel moved =)

Thank you Veritas Est Vana for the story alert!

Disclaimer: Listen if I owned Reaver he would have never left with Garth at the end of Fable 2. Also the Hero of Brightwall's legitimacy would need a serious look over. ;)

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><p>"So," Reaver cocked his head at the hero, waiting for her to finish read the letter they had picked up at Poorman's Point. After what they had encountered on the Point, the pirate thought a name change was definitely in order. Perhaps Lonely Lookout or Pathetic Ghost Woman Way. He tapped the handle of his pint idly.<p>

Sparrow looked up from the ghost woman's letter and met Reaver's gaze with her own tired eyes. She desperately needed a good 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep. "No, I will not sleep with you. I will not 'don the velvet cap' or whatever gross innuendo you have cooked up whilst drinking that swill of yours."

"I was only going to ask what it said." Reaver replied with an innocent gesture. "But I was wondering if later-"he began wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, a joking grin appearing on his face.

Sparrow leaned across the table and promptly stuffed a roll in Reaver's mouth. "The ghost wants me to find her fiancé, seduce him, and then give him this letter which explains how horrible a person he is." She informed him, a smile creeping across her face at Reaver's expense. He looked a bit like a roasted pig with the roll in his mouth like that.

The pirate ripped the roll out of his mouth. "What did you put in this, thing? Rocks, do you bake rocks and call them rolls? You do don't you." Reaver complained gurgling ale in between each outburst. He tossed the offending roll over his shoulder and sighed happily at the resounding crunch of breaking glass.

Sparrow winced and massaged her temples with an irritated fervor. "Just because I own the tavern does not mean I make the rolls. And I am sure you could have found somewhere else to eat." She added in reference to the flocks of women that had accosted them since they entered the city. Even now she felt their hot eyes boring holes into her back. _ I swear I'll never understand why women still fall for him. _Sparrow thought. _There's no way they haven't heard the stories._

Reaver rolled his eyes; she hardly paid any attention to her businesses. "No it means you should fire your cook." Reaver slipped his hand over the table and snatched the ghost's letter. "Now you've gotten us off topic." He scanned the letter quickly. "This is addressed to a fellow named Alex." Reaver looked back at Sparrow, quietly admiring how the smoky tavern atmosphere complimented her fiery hair, sun warmed skin, and, of course, a glimpse of modest cleavage.

Sparrow just sighed and as Reaver read the ghost woman's letter once more, drank the remainder of his ale. The mug hit the worn table with a loud clang that hardly cut through the increasing noise of the tavern.  
>"Alex," Sparrow explained, "Is her fiancé, or, was her fiancé. He left her at the altar and she was so heartbroken she threw herself off a cliff." Sparrow suppressed a shudder as she remembered her almost fall from that afternoon. "She wants him to feel the pain that she felt. You would've heard all of this if you didn't keep poking fun at her."<p>

Reaver waved his hand dismissively, the ghost woman had been easy pickings and he couldn't help himself. "So, seduce him and then break his heart?"

"I'm not doing it." She spat refilling the mug from the pitcher on the table. "Leading her fiancé on and then telling him he made his love jump off a cliff? He'd go join her." She took another gulp from the pottery mug and gritted her teeth as she swallowed the bitter liquid. She had never really liked that taste of ale but she was so strung out from traveling with Reaver and four sleepless nights that she welcomed the heady feeling that followed the bitter taste.

Reaver watched her, his eyes dark as he considered the hero's predicament. She was assuming the ghost bride's former husband-to-be was a good man. Sparrow was prattling on about how horrid he must feel after his _true love _off'd herself. Reaver doubted the situation was anything like what Sparrow was describing as she drank _his _ale. After all Sparrow's client was _dead_ and clamoring for the death of her fiancé.

"Anyway so his name is Alex, I'll find him, take him back to the ghost and they'll have a proper row about it and it'll be over by dinner. She'll move on, he'll move on, I'll move on." Sparrow studied Reaver's reaction from behind her pint of ale. She made a mental note to stop after this one. The hero rolled her shoulders, feeling the knots of tension and weeks of travel beginning to loosen. If only she could get a massage….

Reaver blinked, that was her plan? How had she survived her encounter with Lucian? The pirate laughed and looked around the tavern, his dark grey eyes alighting on a large buxom waitress near the game table. "How are you going to find the man?"

"He's around I'm sure."

"And if he's not the saint you're looking for? Which he will not be—"

"Not everyone's as twisted as you, Reaver." Sparrow replied bluntly.

Reaver shook his head, raising his hand to get the attention of the waitress." Sparrow everyone is twisted, they just haven't had a century to perfect if like I have. You are the only exception, my dear." He was distracted by the buxom waitress making her way to their table, it seemed most of the tavern's occupants were distracted by the waitress, and asking in a sultry voice what she could do for him. Reaver ordered another mug and a fresh pitcher of ale before flirting with her. To his pleasure the waitress was a pro at the game.

Now it was Sparrow's turn to roll her eyes, typical Reaver, assuming the whole world was filled with selfish asshats and then chatting up the waitress. "Excuse me," Sparrow interjected, she slapped down a few coins knowing the sound would garner the waitress's attention., enough for the ale and a bit of information. She searched her mind for the woman's name but she didn't remember her from any of her visits to the Cow and Corset. "I'm looking for a man named Alex?"

The money immediately caught the waitress's attention, she licked her chapped lips as she considered Sparrow's question. Reaver sighed at Sparrow's indelicate information gathering, he was just getting round to asking the woman who this Alex was.

"Aye, but we got a couple in'ere tonight." The waitress flicked her watery blue eyes over Sparrow, assessing how much more coin she could squeeze out of the heroine. "What's the one you're lookin for?"

"I don't know him personally. His-ah-a mutual friend of ours pointed me towards him. All I know is he was engaged last spring but the girl died." Sparrow picked one of the coins up from the pile and flipped it over her knuckles. It was trick she had mastered growing up in the gypsy camp.

The waitress's watery eyes watched the coin roll across Sparrow's knuckles. She pointed to man with brown hair tied back in fashionable ponytail nursing a shot of fire water at the bar. His shoulders were slumped and looked like he might have slept in his clothes. "That's the one you're lookin for."

Sparrow flicked the coin back onto the pile, "I take that mug over there please."

The waitress scooped up the coins deftly and nodded, "Sure thing miss."

Sparrow waited as the waitress cleared the plates, nearly falling out of her blouse twice for Reaver's benefit, and then reluctantly left to fill their order before she spoke to Reaver.

"He looks heartbroken." Sparrow said simply.

"He looks homeless. " Reaver replied arching an eyebrow (perfectly shaped) in disbelief.

"Because he's heartbroken."

"You really believe this 'true love' drivel?"

Sparrow dug at cut in the table, avoiding that jaded expression and dark eyes that were staring incredulously at her. "Some things are fated." Sparrow believed that. She had believed it as a child when that kind family had watched over her and her sister every winter. She had believed it when they had managed to scrape together 5 gold coins to buy that music box. She believed it now, when she had lost everything; her sister Rose, her dog Tobar, even Theresa to fufill her bloodline. After a minute of silence she looked up, watching Reaver through a bit of hair that had escaped her braid. This was the second time he hadn't reacted to her expectations.

The memory took him by surprise it snuck upon him so quietly. Sparrow was admitting her belief in true love (which he knew she knew was ridiculous by how she avoided his eyes) and then suddenly he could almost feel a gentle sea breeze and the warmth of the sun on his skin. Her hair was a tangled mess but it shimmered like gold in the sun. Her back was to him. She didn't know he was there, he had been passing by on his way to the market when he saw her standing on the dock, waiting. Time skipped and it was fall, he was standing before her, they were arguing, and there was something in her eyes and her stance that reminded him of Sparrow….

"Reaver?" Suddenly he was back, seeing only Sparrow's concerned emerald eyes and feeling the sharp pressure of her hand on his arm.

"I rather like having the use of both of my arms." he snapped, brushing her hand away. Another hurtful remark was working its way out when the waitress returned with a fresh pitcher for the table.

"I left your mug at the bar, miss." She told Sparrow, who left the table quickly only to march back to the table and yell angrily.

"Don't even think of putting that on my tab!"

The waitress's eyes widened a little in shock before turning to Reaver, "Who tightened her corset?"

"She's the Hero of the Spire; the whole country tightens her corset."

The waitress gasped, her bosom nearly escaping the inadequate confines of her bodice again. "You mean that was the-."

"Hero of Bowerstone, yes." Reaver finished, bored by the waitress's reaction and a little too engrossed in watching Sparrow as she sauntered up to the man at the bar. He was concerned with whatever it was she had broken in him. He had buried the memories of his old life and did not enjoy seeing them resurface. He was wondering if it was a bad idea to give up on forgetting his year with the hero and return to Albion. After dismissing the waitress, Reaver reached across the table and took back his mug and distracting himself with watching Sparrow enact her plan, which was stupid. He imagined she'd be crawling back in a few minutes or so when she realized that is wasn't going to work or that Alex was total jerk. Sparrow didn't return in the next five minutes or ten or twenty. She was tossing her copper hair and laughing so hard that she nearly fell off of her stool. Luckily that Alex fellow caught her arm and steadied her. Reaver gulped the last of his ale and set it back down angrily as he watched.

Sparrow was surprised to hear that it had been nearly four months since Alex's fiancé had died. Understandably he avoided the topic and turned the conversation towards what had brought Sparrow into town. She revealed that she actually owned the tavern and was here to check on the books, an easy lie. Sparrow owned a few taverns and some stores but she had largely left the previous owners in charge. She was too busy being Albion's Hero to manage a business but she also needed the money for weapons, clothes, and food.

At some point Reaver realized he was glowering. Not glaring or frowning but glaring sullenly at Sparrow and her new friend. It was also around this time that he realized that Sparrow had slipped beyond happily buzzed to sleepily drunk. He recognized the alert and eager posture Alex had taken as Sparrow's eyelids began to droop. Sighing, Reaver stood from the table and made his way to the bar to rescue Sparrow from her teetotaling ways. He was about halfway across the tavern when he remembered her coat was still draped over the back of her chair. It didn't even occur to the pirate that he could just leave Sparrow and her jackets to their fates.

"Come on, beddy bye time." He tapped Sparrow on the shoulder, gray eyes flicking for a second to Alex's drink. It was still full.

"Reaver?" slurred Sparrow, her glazed eyes glazed and her confusion on finding him behind her evident on her flushed face. The hero was beginning to form some protest but Reaver had her coat draped about her shoulders and her off of the stool before it could come to fruition.

"Now, now _Hero_," Reaver sent an annoyed look towards Alex and emphasized the word as a warning. Reaver recognized the sweet scent that had lingered on Sparrow's breath beneath the ale. The drug's side effects could easily be mistaken for drunken behavior. "Queen of observation, aren't you?"

"Who-?" Alex protested, pushing himself up off of his stool. He was stupid enough not to seem worried by Reaver revealing of Sparrow's title. "Who are you?"

With a well practiced flourish, Reaver whipped out his favorite Dragonstomper .48 and aimed it at the offending man's head. He was tired and annoyed with himself, with Sparrow, and most certainly with this bilge water rat. "I am Reaver." The pirate announced, his voice caring smoothly over the now hushed tavern, and pulled the trigger.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm sorry this chapter took longer than I expected! School's just started up for me again and I foolishly scheduled myself 8 am classes everyday. . I'm still adjusting but as a result I'll actually have time to keep updating this. I'm going to aim for updates every Sunday at the latest so we'll see how that works! A MASSIVE thanks to everyone who favorited/alerted/reviewed. Y'all are not only awesome, but the only reason this chapter got done at all. I tip my hat to you! Again, I am my beta and these eyes get tired. I apologize for any imperfections and will fix any that are pointed out. If the spirit moves you, please review even if it's just to say "Oi, I can't stop reading Reaver's dialogue with Stephen Fry's voice!" because I can't either.

Serendipity's tears: Here's the answer to your question! ;)

Alise: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! I love that line too! It cracked me up while I was writing.

this is REAVAH: I am too! I have absolutely no plan for this story so I'm as interested in seein how it'll end as you! =)

CrazyChica17: Thanks! =)

Disclaimer: Oh hai, yeah, Lionhead Studios owns Reaver and Sparrow's physical forms. But according to this wrapper a homeless man I met in Atlanta gave me, I got the rights to the personalities they display in this work of fan fiction. It also says New Look, Same Great Taste! XD

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><p>Clenching his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut, Alex braced himself for the shot, but it never came. He cracked open one eyelid to see the man angrily pulling at the trigger three more times with no affect. Click, click, click. He opened the barrel and cursed; the gun was empty.<p>

"Damn you, you meddling bitch!" Reaver stuffed the gun back into its holster. When had she stolen his ammunition? "You are lucky, very lucky that _she has no regard for other people's property!"_ Reaver realized he was now screaming at Sparrow. It didn't seem to affect the heroine much. Her head was resting on his shoulder and she was breathing steadily. Blasted woman had fallen asleep, and she looked damned cute too. Reaver spun, easily dumping Sparrow over his shoulder, and stomped out of the tavern. It had been a very bad plan to return to her side, a very bad plan indeed.

He shivered in the night air as a chill wind blew through the empty streets, howling as it twisted down alleys and past shuttered windows. It was bitterly cold for a spring night which did nothing to alleviate his temper. He stomped through the cobblestone streets, Sparrow flung over one shoulder, as he hunted for her house. Reaver and the heroine were of the same build, tall and wiry. She was lighter than he had expected (the woman carried an arsenal on her) but the sooner he could deposit her in her house the better. He knew it was in Old Town near the gardens, but his last visit to Bowerstone had been quite some time ago and the pirate had not spent any time in the quaint district. Sparrow had vaguely pointed out where her house was, as they passed through the district on their way to the Cow and Corset, earlier that evening. Reaver veered right, navigating the night crowd with an air of superiority, and passed house after house until he came to a little garden area that was illuminated by streetlamps.

The view was breathtaking. All of Bowerstone was laid out before him; Castle Fairfax rose majestically out of a sea of candle light. Reaver paused to take it in, the city had grown much in the last hundred years, but this moment of peace was ruined by a sudden pounding on his back.

"Putdownme!" Sparrow's words came out all jumbled together. "medownput, downputme!" the hero added an extra punch to make sure her carrier got the message because her words sounded backwards.

"Ah!" Reaver cried out, the entire situation was uncomfortable; he was going to be bruised up and down in the morning with nothing to reminisce about. Reaver let Sparrow fall, taking only minimal pleasure in her vicious swearing when her butt collided with the cobblestones. "What are you doing awake?" He asked.

Sparrow was having trouble getting up. Her mouth was dry as paper, her head ached, and her words were coming out all slurred together. She immediately assumed that Reaver must have done something (probably to her drink) because the last thing she could truly remember was arriving at the bar after yelling at Reaver not to use her tab. The hero managed to

"What," she took a moment to ensure that her words didn't run together and to clear her thoughts. "Have you done to me?" she looked up at Reaver, glaring. She couldn't keep up the glare as a wave of dizziness over took her. Sparrow clenched her eyes shut and laid back on the cobblestone road. She was trying desperately to hold onto the contents of her stomach.

"Oooh." She moaned followed by a series of curses that were so brutalized by her uncooperative tongue they hardly distinguishable from her nauseated moaning.

"Why I defended your honor, Hero. I was then attempting to get you home, but all of these bloody houses look the same. Also your directions were about as useful as Theresa's."

Sparrow raised one hand to her forehead, an all too familiar gesture, "Shuddup! My'ouse is right there." She pointed with her free hand at a modest two story house that stood alone just off of the garden.

Reaver turned, surprised, to look at the house. It was situated right next to the garden and though he could see only a little of it in the light of the streetlamps, he thought it looked downright charming. It was certainly not to his taste and completely unexpected of house of someone like Sparrow. The pirate returned his attention to the woman, now sitting grumpily on the ground, and offered her his hand.

"My lady."

Sparrow looked at the hand suspiciously. "I'd rather crawl."

"Then by all means, Hero, lead the way."

Sparrow staggered to her feet. There was no way that she was going to accept help from the man who put her in this state in the first place. "Go on, laugh it up." She managed a few steps on her own before her legs decided walking straight was too useful. For the third time that week, Sparrow found herself in Reaver's arms.

Reaver caught her just as her legs gave out, "Of course, but I'd never take advantage of a woman who's been dosed with sleep syrup, Sparrow. It's no fun when only I remember." He tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. "Your braid has come undone."

Reaver's face was too close to hers, Sparrow felt crossed eyed as she stared at him. "Sleep syrup?" she asked softly. She could feel the poison working in her, pulling her back under. "Who?"

"Alex, he could have added it to your drink when the waitress left it next to him at the bar."

Sparrow felt her limbs relax completely and her eyelids grow heavy, "Shit." She whispered before falling into unconsciousness.

The morning came swiftly and passed without as much as a stir in the dusty innards of Sparrow's house. It was 4:30 in the afternoon by the Village Crier's count when Sparrow finally opened her eyes, all trace of the drug erased from her system. The hero laid there for while, thinking over the events of the previous night, her mounting debt to Reaver, and, lastly, what she was going to do about Alex. Sparrow was thinking much more clearly now then she had been last night. She remembered her conversation with Reaver in the garden and came to the conclusion that he was probably telling the truth. She had drunk from his mug for most of the night and her memory didn't get fuzzy until midway through her chat with Alex. _I'm going to have to apologize. _Groaning, Sparrow rolled out of bed feeling remarkably well rested and, upon noticing that she was still wearing her travel clothes, decided she was going to take a long, hot bath. Her hair was tangled mess, she could feel it, and she was sure that she had layer upon of grime on her skin and clothes.

"Reaver?" Sparrow called out, it would be embarrassing for to have him walk in during the middle of her bath. She walked over to poke the extra bed that was placed in the corner of the open plan second floor. As it had looked from across the room, the bed was empty. "Reaver?" Sparrow hurried over to the stairs and jogged down them to the first floor. She smiled a little when she finally spotted him, asleep in her reading chair with a book spread open on his lap. He was slouched in the armchair, his face turned to the side and resting half on his shoulder and half on the cushiony back of the chair, his right arm hanging over the side.

Sparrow went back to the second floor, grabbed a blanket from the second bed, and returned to the sleeping Reaver to lay it gently over him. She slipped the book from his lap before making her final adjustment with the blanket.

"Fool pirate." She whispered shaking her head silently at how peaceful he seemed. "What were you reading-?" Sparrow flipped the book over and immediately recognized the binding as her own. Throughout her travels she had found many notes, maps, and manuscripts. With some help from the owner of the Bowerstone bookstore, Sparrow had learned to bind the pages of her finds into books and had lined her personal bookshelves with them. The book that Reaver had fallen asleep reading was one of Sparrow's later works. The book was a collection of research notes that Sparrow had been given while helping Belle with her excavation of the Fairfax gardens. She placed it back on the shelf, _That's why he fell asleep in my chair._ She thought, amused by the image of Reaver reading the dull notes.

Now that she'd found Reaver dead asleep, Sparrow could focus on her bath. She was sure that if yelling his name and moving the book hadn't woke him then a bath wouldn't. Also, she really didn't want to wait.


	4. Chapter 4

So it totally figures that as soon as I set a deadline I miss it! I like to post chapters at a 1000 words plus and now also by Sunday, I swear I'll get the hang of it! . Thank you again to you lovelies that reviewed (some twice, MissOblivion) or who have on nearly every chapter (This is REVAH, your username never fails to cackle), fav'd, and alerted this story. Now get to reading the chapter! GO! I have to go plot the next chapter and figure out what the frak I'm doing with this. So, uh, review if the spirit moves ya!

Disclaimer: If I owned Reaver he'd have spent the entire game in a wet shirt. :3 Well at least a good cutscene or two.

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><p>Arfur rammed his fist into the other man's stomach, his eyes reflecting coldly in the afternoon light that filtered in through the broken window. His time in Bowerstone Prison had made him hard. Harder than his younger days when he'd been content working in the shadow of Nicky the Nickname. Arfur was stronger now, ambitious even. He waited as the bedraggled man retched onto the floor. Bowerstone was ripe for the picking. No bandits to compete with, no crime lords to cozy up to, no Nicky the Nickname. Arfur had seen to that himself and it seemed he should have dealt with little Sparrow personally as well.<p>

"I were up early this mornin'. Could a slept in, right, couldn't I?" he pushed the crouched man over with his foot. "Couldn't I Alex?"

"I tried! I tried!" Alex shouted in his defense. "You said she traveled alone!"

"Hear that Reg? It's all me fault isn't?" Arfur addressed the gypsy woman shackled to the wall with mocking expression. "Me informant were bad. The ship captain lied. Reg forged the bloomin' letter she got from Sparrow 'erself! Right!" Arfur kicked Alex in the side again and again until the man managed to scream out another excuse.

"Reaver," Alex gasped, "Reaver was with her!"

Arfur stopped, his foot inches away from driving into Alex's side again. "Maybe yer should start from the beginnin'?"

"If you woke up in a strange house hearing those noises, you would go investigate. I would bet my favorite painting, the one I had done just after the tenth burning of the Hero's Guild a fantastic piece you know that man was the first to capture the peculiar curve of my jaw when I make this face." Reaver slicked back his soaking wet hair and posed. "See?"

Sparrow, dressed in a clean shirt and breeches with her damp hair pulled over loosely one shoulder, glared at the pirate clearly slightly amused by his rambling excuse as to why he had been watching her bathe. She leaned back in her chair, the wooden back pressing uncomfortably against her shoulders, propped her feet on the table.

"Reaver, light burn you, I will dump another bucket of water on you."

Reaver fingered his damp shirt, "You could just ask me to take it off, you know." He smirked pleased by the red that bloomed beneath Sparrow's tan.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"Dear Madam, I know, but if I am impossible than you are positively thorny." Reaver laughed leaning closer to Sparrow.

"I am not! I just don't inflate your ego like everyone else!"

Reaver shook his head, "I worked hard building up my ego. I needed no help doing it."

The hero dropped her hand reflexively letting it hang in the air waiting for her dog's wet nose to push into her palm. She smiled, a particularly witty response waiting on her tongue but she stopped realizing what she had done. Tobar searching nose didn't press against her palm and then Sparrow remembered it never would again. Suddenly her embarrassment at being caught naked seemed pathetic against this simple reminder of what she lost.

"Reaver?"

She stared at Reaver and he stared back. Here it was, the moment she should shoot him in the knees. The moment where she should make him crawl out of her house with his pretty face twisted until no one would ever want him again so he could feel half of what she felt, live half the life she had.

"Yes?" he answered, his voice soft, his eyes shimmering with some emotion that Sparrow couldn't name. Here was the point where she told him to leave and meant it. Reaver could read it in her face, in her body. She was thinking about that bitter and bloody connection they shared. First he had tried to sacrifice her to the Shadow Court (he had no idea how she had gotten out of that) and then he had given her up to Lucien, an action that had lead to capture of the Three Heroes (himself, a brutish woman known as Hammer, and the will scarred mage Garth) and the death of Sparrow's beloved dog. Unbidden, excuses began to spring up in his mind. He'd changed his mind after his deal with Lucien after meeting her. He'd stopped feeding information to Lucien but somehow he had known about the ritual anyway. She had changed something in him, unlocked a part of himself that he had lost.

"Shut-up." Her voice wavered and Sparrow turned her face away, unable to continue looking into those eyes. She would deal with all of this later in an uninterrupted bath. She would process this bundle of feelings and what Reaver wanted and why she couldn't seem to send him away later.

Arfur crouched with several of his goons and Alex in the bushes outside of Sparrow's house. That it was the house that she and her sister used to squat next to did not escape him. After Alex's failed attempt at nabbing the girl, Arfur was convinced he'd have to pull off every aspect of his revenge personally.

"Woss our move boss?" one of the goons asked Arfur.

Arfur slapped the man on the back of his head. "O'course not! We'll strike wen she's alone! Blimey! Wen she least expects it! You want deal wif Reaver?"

The brute shook his head quickly. No one in their right mind wanted to deal with Reaver firsthand. Cruel, manipulative, and –if you believed the tales—immortal, Reaver was a force to be reckoned with and certainly not one Arfur wanted to take on at the same time as the Hero of Bowerstone.

Arfur motioned for them to move out and once they were sequestered in the abandoned warehouse at the edge of Old Town, Arfur turned his mind to plotting.

"Did any fairy spot yer put the sleep syrup in Sparrows pint?"

Alex, bruised and beaten as he was, shook his head enthusiastically. "No, no one saw."

Arfur nodded thoughtfully, "Fink she'd meet yer again, then, eh? Wivout the boytoy?"

"Yeah, I think she might."

"Midnight, right, Bowerstone Clocktower. Make sure she's there. Alone. We'll be waitin'. If yer fuck this up, right, Alex, and yer'll be gahn on a wee walk off Poorman's Point."


	5. Chapter 5

I'm absolutely dead so I'm just going to thank everyone (NixxH, AndSoForeverAfter, ami. , KC DarkFire,Vardie as a start) who has fav'd/alerted this story. Y'all are why I didn't drop this thing! Especially to MissOblivion, Serendipity's tears, and that other person who I forgot for their advice. And spiritual entity of your choosing bless any who bother to read this and continue to read this story. You are truly patient people! Now read and review to tell me about all my typos and how awesome I could be if I didn't write while sleep deprived. :D

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><p>Alex shifted nervously, hunching his shoulders as a gust of wind whistled through the side street. He should have stopped gambling when his fiancée found out. Oh if she could see him now, broke and working for Arfur. Well the crook would have to forgive his debts now, after he, Alex Krane, helped to bring down a national icon. He huddled against the wall; a figure had just stepped out of the house their silhouette framed by the setting sun. Tall and lean, for a moment Alex thought it was Sparrow and his stomach dropped. How was he going to get her to the Clocktower? If he was honest with himself, Alex knew he was no good with women. He was limited to the few women who enjoyed a man who bumbled nervously through conversations unable to choose between looking at the breasts or eyes and eventually choosing his own feet. While he was being honest with himself he might as well admit that he was also a terrible gambler. Alex shook his head; it'd have to be a mix of the truth then. Sparrow was the Hero of Bowerstone after all. If he told her that he'd been challenged to a dual in which, being a peaceful man, he stood no chance she would have to help him.<p>

The figure strode past broodingly. It was the man who had ruined Alex's attempts at drugging Sparrow the night before. Reaver's handsome face was drawn into a scowl and his hands were thrust deep into his pockets. Clearly something was bothering the pirate as he was mumbling feverishly under his breath. Alex only caught a few words as the man passed but he thought they were "bloody court", "shit bargain", and "just a mutt." Alex leaned out of his hiding spot to see if Reaver had left the lane that ran past. Seeing no sign the pirate he collected himself and limped to Sparrow's house.

An hour or so earlier, Reaver flipped idly through another of Sparrow's books. It was a carefully rebound copy of the Hero of Oakvale. It was one of many versions of the legendary tale although one of the less popular. Reaver scanned a page and then another. He'd bet a hundred gold that this Maze fellow was going to stab the Hero in the back. A name caught his attention causing Reaver to pause and reread the previous page to understand its context. The second paragraph of the previous page described the Oakvale docks in obscene detail. Skipping this, Reaver focused on the dialogue between The Hero and his will-user mentor Maze.

_"Your sister, Theresa, is alive. I believe she is the Bandit King's blind seer. It would explain his recent good…fortune. If you follow the coast you'll come across his camp. She'll be at his side with her eyes covered by s" _

Reaver straightened and read the line again. Theresa, blind seer, could she be the same as-?

"Have you read this one?" He asked easily hiding his interest in the answer.

Sparrow looked up from the pile of letters she was sorting through on the floor. The fireplace was littered with the smoldering remains of what she had insisted was junk mail. Sparrow instantly recognized the book's cover.

"Yeah, I grew up hearing it from Cloud the storyteller in the gypsy camp. It was one of the first tales I wrote down. I broke the binding I read it so much."

"Not a popular version though, is it?"

Sparrow thought for a moment, chewing her lower lip. "No it's not. I've only heard it once or twice outside of the camp. Why?"

"This passage here. Read it carefully and tell me what you think." He stood from his chair and crossed the short distance between himself and Sparrow. "Just there." He knelt next to her and pointed at the line he had just read.

Sparrow read the few paragraphs Reaver had indicated silently. Her lips twitched slightly as she partly mouthed the words. She was familiar with the story but it had been a longtime since she had read this part. As a child, Sparrow had badgered Cloud the storyteller into skipping to the good parts. The battle with the White Balverine, the fall of Lady Grey, The Arena, anything involving Whisper or Briar Rose(though there was little known of Whisper's exploits), Maze's betrayal, the burning of the Guild of Heroes, and the Hero's battles against Jack of Blades. Sparrow looked up at Reaver, sweeping her braid off her shoulder, and blew a puff of air in his face.

"So the Hero's sister was alive, everyone knows that. "

Reaver rolled his eyes. "Do you honestly find no similarity between this description here," he tapped the book in her lap. "And your foster mother out there?" he jerked his head in the direction of the Spire.

Sparrow frowned; there was a glint in those grey eyes of his. A very familiar and unsettling glint. She slapped the book shut only just missing Reaver's fingers. "I don't like what you're implying, Reaver."

"Sparrow, take it from one who knows. Beauty will only get you so far in this world. Well, actually, it has gotten _me_ very far in life. It's the cheekbones really-"

"Oh shove off!" the hero punched Reaver in the shoulder overbalancing him. He fell back onto his butt and grunted. "Theresa and the Hero of Oakvale's sister are _not_ the same person! It's a coincidence!"

"The thought has never crossed your mind? Not once? Not even for a second?" He rubbed his shoulder; the girl did not know her own strength.

Sparrow's eyebrows crunched together and she turned her eyes away from Reaver's piercing gaze.

"So it has."

"It's been 500 years since the Hero defeated Jack o'Blades. The Hero and his sister are dead."

Reaver let his mouth curl into an ironic smile.

Sparrow caught a glimpse of it from the corner of her eye and turned on him. The thought had occurred to Sparrow before, in the dead of night. She had always shied away from the thought though like she was afraid of it. Sparrow had never asked Theresa or mentioned the old seer's resemblance to her legendary counterpart. "She can't be! I lived with her for years! I would have noticed if she were sacrificing random innocents to the Shadow Court!"

"I am positive that you would have noticed, my dear, but there are other ways of gaining immortality."

Sparrow threw her hands in the air, "I'm not talking about this anymore! Theresa lives in the Spire now you know where it is so go ask her yourself!"Sparrow pinched the bridge of her nose groaning in a mixture of annoyance. "I need a drink."

Reaver took in Sparrow's bent form, she knew something. He didn't know for sure if there were other ways of gaining immortality but he didn't think it unreasonable. With a sigh, the pirate decided to let the matter go for now. It clearly unsettled Sparrow and while he found disturbing Sparrow the epitome of entertainment he could only push her so far before she began lobbing fireballs at him.

"To the Cow and Corset then?"

Sparrow shivered involuntarily, "Aye." She muttered shutting her eyes as the shiver ran its course down her spine. The fire at her back felt uncomfortably hot now and the room stifling, yet gooseflesh rose on her arms. For a brief moment, Sparrow felt the stabbing pulse of the Spire again. The pulse was everywhere, all consuming. It rattled her bones and beat inside of her skull stealing her thoughts away and forcing her breath out in a long, strained hiss. Hours seemed to drag by as the pulse pushed and pulled and beat at her. Then, as quickly as the shiver came, it was gone and Sparrow was released. She opened her eyes to find only a second or two had passed. Sparrow wondered if she had merely imagined the pulse of the Spire, but she felt her whole body trembling.

"Go get us a table. I have to…uh…go see the guard about these beetle bounties."


	6. Chapter 6

By the time that Sparrow arrived at the Cow and Corset, Reaver had gotten bored waiting at their table and had relocated himself to the games table. She could just barely see him through the crowd that was pressing in around the no doubt highs stakes game of spinnerbox. His laughter carried over the noise of the tavern and Sparrow decided to take a seat at the bar rather than pull him away from the game. She had his little purse of custom ammo tucked safely away in the top of her left boot so, should the game go poorly, the simple citizens of Bowerstone would not have to fear being shot through the eye.

"Glad to see you feeling better, Sparrow! Nasty weak ale they must 'ave up North, eh?" the bartender commented cheerfully. He was a stout man in his late forties, who had fed Sparrow and her sister scraps out of the kitchen when she was a child. When Sparrow bought the tavern she had remembered his kindness and left him in charge of the day to day running of the business (along with a nice raise).

"The ale is plenty strong up North, Barnard." Sparrow said with a friendly smile as she pulled a stool out from under the heavy oak bar. "But they call it mead and the women brew it from honey. Packs a wollop it does."

Barnard's salt and pepper eyebrows nearly touched his hairline as he repeated the young hero's words incredulously. "Brewed from honey by woman? Nay, say it's not so! Women, ye say? Honey?" he wiped at this bar fervently. "Preposterous!"

Sparrow rolled her eyes, Barnard was a good man but he still had rather strict views on what a man or woman could or could not do. Sparrow never asked him what he thought of her hero work. However, he couldn't be too opposed to it. Anytime something invaded the cellar, Barnard turned to Sparrow before the guards.

"I'll take a tea and any information you have on Alex, the bloke I was talking to last night?"

Barnard tucked his washcloth into his apron and nodded happily. "A sad one he is, Alex, lost his fiancé a few months back been seeing him less and less in here since." Barnard leaned over slightly to retrieve a mug and teapot from under the bar. He gave both a quick wipe with his cloth while Sparrow took in the information.

Sparrow leaned forward on the bar, "So he was regular customer before?"

"Aye, he was in here almost every night sittin where your pretty new friend is right now." Barnard stepped away from the counter to fill the teapot with hot water from the kettle on the fire.

Turning slowly, Sparrow looked back at the spinnerbox table. Fewer patrons were gathered around it now; most had drifted over to the band that was tuning on the terraced back corner of the tavern. She could see Reaver much more clearly now. His cheeks were flushed and his dark hair was perfect despite the number of time he seemed to be running a hand through it. He really was pretty and admitting that was nothing strange, Sparrow thought to herself, it was a simple fact. Reaver was an attractive man to anyone who likes dark haired and grey eyed men with exquisitely chiseled features. _And I certainly don't_, Sparrow thought, _so let that be the end of that! _

"Cream or sugar?" Barnard asked with a secretive smile. He had noticed Sparrow staring at her companion and Barnard liked to think he could recognize a smitten girl when he saw one.

"None thanks." Sparrow turned hastily away from the spectacle of the spinnerbox table. "So," Sparrow tested the tea with her finger, too hot, "a man who is a known gambler and drinker leaves his fiancé at the altar. She jumps off a cliff to her death and that's when he decides to cut back on his vices?" Sparrow idly ran her finger around the lip of the mug. "That doesn't sound like a man who has lost his true love to me. Most men'd dive deeper."

"And that's the puzzling bit 'cause his little beau had a fair amount of gold to her name. So why would he not marry her? She had enough to pay his debts and to start them off fresh."

"Then why would he not go through with it?" Sparrow wondered aloud, tapping the edge of her mug.

"Who not go through with what?"

Sparrow suppressed the surprise that ran through her at Reaver's voice sounding directly over her shoulder. She tested her tea again, forcing an aura of calm. "Alex not marry his intended. He would have been set for life if he had."

Reaver seated himself on the stool next to Sparrow; He turned so that he was facing her, one elbow resting on the bar and both feet on the floor ready to stand should there be trouble. "Well, your boy probably got in over his head. Like you are hero."

Sparrow raised her eyebrows incredulously but didn't reply right away, she had an idea. "Barnard? You think Alex loved the girl?"

The bartender thought her question over for a minute before nodding, "Aye that he did. Never touched a coin of hers but," here Barnard sighed dramatically as he picked up another glass to clean. "He loved the game more in the end I suppose."

Sparrow nodded excitedly, "You're right Reaver. Alex was in over his head, swimming in debt to the wrong people, and he tried to shield his fiancé from it. Jilted the poor soul."

Reaver looked at her curiously, "Do you think she was murdered?"

"She walked off that cliff herself." Sparrow lifted her mug to her lips and sipped the earthy liquid. _ She would have mentioned her own murder_. Sparrow suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at that memory of the chatty ghost. The woman had seemed at once extremely overwrought at her ruined wedding and smug that she was such a talking point in the city. "But Alex won't if we don't help."

"Tis a reason we call it Poorman's Point." Barnard looked Sparrow straight in the eye. "Alex may be a slimy, penniless drunk but he's one of us. A Bowerstone man! Lucien shadows blight 'im, took enough from this town. Don't you give that Nickname gang more of a foothold, Sparrow."

"He is a rat. Best let him drown." Reaver shook his head. "Then he and his lovely can work out who hurt who more."

Sparrow lowered her eyes in thought. _ Alex, now there's a mess._ He was a weak man certainly, but not an evil man and Sparrow couldn't justify abandoning him to Arfur. "No, we'll help him." Sparrow raised her eyes to meet Reaver's steely gaze. She could see the condemnation in his eyes, the inability to tolerate weakness in others. "Tonight, midnight at the clock tower. He'll be there and so will Arfur." Sparrow dropped a hand to the hidden pocket in the top of her boot. She pulled out Reaver's ammunition purse and pressed it against his chest. "Ready for some shooting practice?"


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you for the story alerts and reviews! I can't remember who asked for a will user Sparrow but tada! Here you go! And someone else wanted to see Reaver being the badass that he is, I'm so sorry not just yet! However he will get a chance to shine soon ;] Anyway, enjoy! rate, review, comment, alert, fav whatever and thank you to those who have!

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><p>Reaver had expected something a little more exciting than this. He lounged in a rickety wooden chair on the balcony of the Cow and Corset, gun in one hand drink in the other, waiting.<p>

"This is rather dull. Why don't we just shoot them all?" he raised his gun and looked down the site at the square. "You are taking all the fun out of being underhanded." Reaver heard Sparrow's soft footsteps as she stepped onto the balcony.

"If we just start shooting from here Arfur'll bolt." Sparrow chided him.

Reaver sipped from his glass savoring the oaky tones of the amber liquid. "You have history with this Arfur character don't you, Hero? Oh wait, I don't care as long as I get to shoot someone." He knocked back the remaining contents of his glass.

Sparrow shook her head as she checked her clockwork pistol one last time. "Glad to know your heart's in the right place." She studied Reaver out of the corner of her eye. He seemed his usual self now rude, drunk, and trigger happy. He had already tried to shoot three patrons of the tavern after Sparrow had returned his bullets. Sparrow was surprised at the sense of disappointment she almost felt at his return. But on the other hand Reaver was full of disappointment and Sparrow had never been too interested in introspection. So, the hero blew her feelings out in a steady, clear note that marked the beginning of a song whose words she had long forgotten.

Reaver shifted his eyes to the hero; he knew that song though it had been an awfully long time since he had heard it. A folksong from Oakvale, if he was not mistaken. He watched as Sparrow spun her pistol in a circle on her index finger before locking it into its holster on her hip. Her lips were still pursed as she whistled away. She looked at him, sensing his gaze, and stopped whistling.

"Bee in your bonnet?" She asked tilting her head, studying him with fiery green eyes like he was a particularly difficult puzzle that she was determined to solve.

Reaver blinked slowly; perhaps the liquor was stronger than he had anticipated. With more concentration then it should have required, Reaver lifted the glass in his hand and threw it out over the balcony. It smashed against the clock tower raining shards down on the empty street.

"Do your job Hero and I'll do mine."

Sparrow shrugged unoffended by his display. "Just don't shoot me and leave Arfur to me." She swung over the balcony railing and held on with one hand as she stared back at Reaver. "Got it?"

Reaver he rolled his eyes in answer and brought his Dragonstomper to eye level. "Are you stalling little Sparrow?"

Her lips twitched and Reaver noted that her knuckles were white as she gripped the railing for stability.

"A flashy entrance is rendered moot if one botches it because one has an irrational fear of heights. A drop like that," he motioned lazily at where she hung, "will hardly sting your feet. Stick to the plan, remember?"

She leveled a haughty glare at him but wordlessly released the railing dropping to the street below. Reaver grinned at the startled gasp that must have belonged to that pathetic creature Alex; Sparrow did have a flare for the dramatic after all.

"_It'll be the biggest celebration Oakvale has ever seen!" _ Her voice echoed in his ears and Reaver blanched his free hand grasping the edge of the table. This was not the time. He struggled to pull his focus back to the present even as she appeared before him, a vision of gold and blue such hope and joy shining in her eyes. _"Do say you'll come?" _Reaver twisted away from the specter looking out at the Bowerstone Market, focusing his gray eyes on the dark shadows beneath the clock tower.

"Send them running, Sparrow." He whispered through gritted teeth. Still his memories threatened to overwhelm him.

"_I don't believe you! He would never!"_

A figure shot out from the shelter of the clock tower, tripping over itself as it scrambled away from the meeting place. Reaver fired once and the figure collapsed to the cobblestones.

"_You are no better than him, a reaver of all that is good in this world."_

With a snarl of rage, Reaver surged to his feet aiming his famed pistol at the space where he saw her. Her blue dress was torn; blood ran down the side of her face staining her golden hair. She was just another body in the desolation that surrounded him.

"Reaver, bloody hell!" Sparrow's voice pitched higher than her usual mellow tone broke him from his vision. Will lines blazed across her skin and the world moved in slow motion around her. "Let's go!" she screamed again and Reaver realized that she had pulled his gun from his hand and had a tight grip on his arm. He glanced towards the clock tower confused, what was she doing on the balcony? His jaw dropped when he saw the Bowerstone Clock Tower exploding in slow motion. Fire ripped at its base sending bricks flying out at an inching pace. The tower shuddered and buckled as more explosions occurred at the base. Reaver realized too late that the destruction was speeding up as Sparrow's spell wore off. She flung herself at him slamming them both onto the wood planks of the balcony's floor just as the world broke free of Sparrow's spell.

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><p>AN: So I got some major drama going down in rl BUT I'm honestly fed up with this story not being done. Therefore instead of pushing myself to meet a certain word limit for each chapter and delaying and delaying I'm just going to end the damn chapter when I damn well please and HOPEFULLY this will result in more frequent updates. I was good at this whole timely update thing once, I promise. I was younger then :[


	8. Chapter 8

Hello again! After a long absence I have returned! A word of advice, moving 800 miles and taking 2 online courses at the same time are not conducive activities for fanfic writing/plotting. Thank you to everyone who has favorited and followed this story during the hiatus and when I was publishing somewhat normally! Y'all have helped me keep this thing going.

Disclaimer: If Fable was mine there would have been an option for a nice long chat with Theresa about how heroes are rewarded after doing the dirty work. Alas there wasn't. Also those "companions" would have actually been companions.

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><p>Consciousness came to him in a sudden gasp of dusty air. He choked, his body convulsing as much as the heavy weight that pinned him to the ground would allow. On some unconscious level he registered screams, at once deafening and muffled as though they came from a long ways off. With a groan, Reaver pushed feebly at the weight on his chest. Dimly, he remembered Sparrow tackling him to the ground, so, judging from the female voice that was now coming to consciousness by his ear, it must be her laying like a dead log on top of him.<p>

"Get off." Reaver coughed and pushed at her once more. She rolled off him easily enough and landed limply on her side. Their legs were still tangled but he could breathe again. Reaver breathed in deeply, enjoying the feel of his lungs expanding to their fullest. Instead of the cool night air the pirate imagined, he got a lungful of smoke and dust. Reaver devolved once again into a fit of coughing. When he stopped coughing, he began cataloguing his every ache and pain so that he could repay whoever blew up the bloody clock tower. He felt Sparrow stir next to him.

"Do you see a way out?" Sparrow asked softly.

"My eyes aren't even open." Reaver's voice cracked a little but he didn't notice. For a wild moment Reaver felt a rush of fear, he couldn't see wiped at his eyes and his hand came away sticky and wet. He tried again to open his eyes, his eyelashes came apart slowly. A bright blue light filled his vision and he blinked several times, wiping more half dried blood from his forehead as well, before his eyes adjusted to the light. A shimmering field of Will kept the debris off them, forming a half-dome just big enough for the two of them. He looked over at Sparrow intricate patterns burned a bright azure in her skin.

"You are lit up like a Beltane bonfire at midnight." Reaver replied hoarsely. Her clothes were hardly more than dirty, blood soaked rags. Her emerald eyes were half-open, strands of her copper hair were pasted to her skin by sweat and blood, and blood dripped down her chin from her split lower lip.

"You look worse than Lucien after a decade in the Spire, Hero." Unconsciously, Reaver reached out to push the loose strands of hair from her face.

Sparrow coughed then groaned at the pain it caused. "Buried under a clock tower and yer still tryin to flirt." She said wryly through gritted teeth. "Incorrigible."

"I am nothing if not optimistic."

Sparrow's mouth twitched in amusement but she quickly settled back to the frown Reaver was accustomed too. "One good push and I could get us out of here."

"Then by all means."

"I have no idea who's around us out there." Sparrow looked up at the debris waiting just beyond her shield to crush them. "I don't want to hurt anyone else."

Reaver watched her, annoyance rising up in his chest. "Sparrow," he whispered sharply. A hundred different responses to her concerns raced through his mind. She was more concerned about hurting another villager than saving them? What kind of mad woman was she? _The kind that sacrifices the only family she's known for the lives of others._ He pushed back the guilt ridden thought. Guilt was not something he felt. Ever. Besides, there was nothing he could do now to change what he had done, and now was certainly not the time to wallow in emotions that he thought he had purged himself of decades ago.

Sparrow interrupted Reaver's introspective wallowing (which he had ended up doing anyway) with a brisk, "Let's do this then." Before Reaver had any chance to respond, Sparrow had her eyes closed and her blue Will lines were growing brighter and brighter. The shimmering shield that had kept them safe disappeared and, as the debris began to fall, Sparrow's will pulsed outwards.

The sun's rays were just beginning to tint the sky with morning light. He rubbed his eyes and his hand came away with smears of red on it. The rogue wasn't surprised to see his own blood but he was unsettled by it. He felt a wave of nausea and took a grateful, deep breath of fresh air but it was clotted with smoke. He choked and coughed to clear his lungs until he was doubled over and breathless. Beside him Sparrow was muttering something but it was drowned out by the wailing and the screams of the people of Bowerstone and his own struggles to breath. He was immortal but at this moment he was reminded that he was not invulnerable. Reaver allowed Sparrow to guide them out of the smoking ruins of The Cow and Corset; he honestly couldn't have stopped her, the head wound coupled with the hacking cough he couldn't seem to shake left him unbalanced.

They were forced to stop several times when they're path was blocked by debris. Each time they're path was blocked, Sparrow raised her hand and a blast of Will cleared the path. When they reached the bridge he saw _her_ standing just before the drinks stall. Her blonde curls were disheveled and her blue eyes were rimmed red and full of tears.

_"How could you do this?"_ She shouted at him her voice filled with confusion and horror.

"I didn't know." Reaver knew he shouldn't answer, shouldn't give this apparition any more power but he did. His head pounded and for the moment he forgot Sparrow.

_"Your friends!"Your family!" _

"I didn't know! Please! I didn't know!" He couldn't stand to see _her_ anymore. He hadn't known what the Shadows wanted from him.

_"You let me die. You let the shadows take me."_

"Reaver, whatever you're seeing it isn't real." Sparrow's voice sounded strained. He realized dimly that she practically supporting them both. "Snap out if it! I can't carry us both!"

Reaver tried to get his feet back under him but his legs shook. His vision swam in and out of focus; the ghost morphed into a pox marked man in a patched suit. Reaver could feel Sparrow's body tense beside him.

"Arfur." She growled and suddenly Reaver could feel her rage like a fire burning in her skin.

"Sparrow!" The man slapped his hand against his thigh. "I fought it were yer! Yer've grown since last I seen yer." He raked his eyes over the hero. "Almost pretty now, 'course we boff know Rose were the pretty one."

"Don't you say her name!"

"Or wot, wee Sparrow? Yer'll bleed on me?" He scoffed and stepped forward as if conveying some sensitive information. " He's 'ardly spoilin' for a fight, birdie. It's just yer and me now."

Sparrow moved quickly, her left hand rose up and the sharp report of a pistol sounded. Arfur doubled over, his own pistol dropping from his hand unfired. He howled in pain and clutched at the blossoming red stain at his crotch. The mobster fell to his knees and looked up at Sparrow, his face a twisted mask of pain and rage, and screamed "Yer bitch!"

Sparrow said nothing. She merely aimed Reaver's Dragonstomper at Arfur's head and squeezed the trigger.

After that Reaver's recollection of events got very hazy. He hoped that Sparrow did not drop his beloved weapon to the cobblestones, but he was not sure that she didn't. He might have heard her say something like "This damn seal better still work" or it could have been "Aim better ye damn shark." Whatever she said, only moments later his vision was filled with a blue light and then darkness.


End file.
